


When I Find You, I’ll Find Me

by river_soul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mostly fluff with a bit of angst, PTSD, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: After a 4th of July party at your friend’s house unearths some insecurities on Bucky’s part he suggests you’d be better off without him. You show him just how wrong he is.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	When I Find You, I’ll Find Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Venusofthehardsell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusofthehardsell/gifts).



> Thank you to @venus-on-main for the prompt: “Someone is jealous/hurt" - “I never want you to feel like you’re not good enough.” I cannot say enough thanks to @emmabarnes for her beta work on this!

“Christ, it’s hot,” you complain to your friend Julia, pressing a cold bottle of beer to the back of your neck. 

The condensation offers you some relief from the late afternoon heat but it’s short-lived. You know what little makeup you applied this morning is long gone and a thin sheen of sweat coats your skin in its place. Your hair, when you saw it in the bathroom mirror earlier, was a frizzy mess from the humidity and likely only gotten worse. You’re not sure how Bucky can look so cool in his jeans and long sleeve shirt. You’re dying in your thin sundress. 

It’s unseasonably hot at the fourth of July party your friend is hosting. Her backyard is filled with close family and friends and the smell of hamburgers and hot dogs sizzling on the grill. Bucky has stayed close to your side since you arrived but you saw the effort he made to talk with your friends, answering their questions about life as an Avenger and sharing stories about Steve that had people laughing. Even though he seemed to relax as the day wore on, you didn’t miss the way his eyes tracked everyone coming and going or his flinch when one of the kids slammed the door shut loud enough to rattle the windows. 

“I am sweating like a friggen whore in church,” Julia mutters. “Whose dumb idea was it to host a party outside?”

“Yours,” you tell her with a laugh, glancing over your shoulder to look at Bucky.

He’s right where you left him, leaning against the side of the house with a bottle of beer hanging loosely in his gloved hand. He’s watching the kids run around the yard with sparklers, their shrieks of delight drowning out the constant buzz of the cicadas. There’s a soft smile on his lips that makes something unexpected swell in your chest. You’ve never talked about kids, too afraid of what his answer might be given his line of work, but there’s no mistaking the longing you see in his eyes now.

“Are you coming to the fireworks later?” Julia asks, pulling your attention away from Bucky.

“Nah, we’re going to head out before it gets dark,” you say.

“What? Why? Fireworks are your favorite part,” she reminds you with a frown. “You never miss them!”

“I have a meeting with Pepper Potts early tomorrow, she trumps fireworks any day,” you lie.

Well, it’s not a total fib, you do have a meeting with your boss bright and early but that’s not until Monday. You feel a little guilty for misleading Julia but you can’t tell her the real reason, not without breaking Bucky’s confidence. 

“Ok hot shot, no need to name drop,” your friend says with a grin, hands raised in defeat. 

You know she’s teasing you, she likes to rib you about your ‘fancy big girl job’ in the city. Even though things have changed between you over the years as you’ve grown into your own lives as adults, deep down you’re still just two girls from Hoboken who forged a friendship over the playground.

“Oh, I’m big time now. You didn’t hear?” You say with a wink, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips to take a swig. 

You let your gaze wander back to Bucky. He is still lounging against the wall, but there is a small frown on his lips now. He looks relaxed to the casual observer but you know him well enough to see the tension in the lines of his face and the nearly imperceptible tick in his jaw. He doesn’t like crowds or parties so the fact that he made the drive out to your friend’s house means the world to you. The tightness in his body also lets you know you should probably leave soon. 

You’ve been here nearly four hours and as much as you want to stay longer and indulge in the relaxed atmosphere and see the bright colors light up the sky, you know it isn’t fair to him. He doesn’t do well with the fireworks and you know you’ve already pressed him to the edge of his comfort zone by coming out today. 

With a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug you bid Julia goodbye. You don’t miss the way her forehead creases in concern at your early departure. You know she wants you to stay longer and she doesn’t really believe the excuse you gave her despite her easy acceptance of it. 

“Ready to head out?” You ask Bucky when you reach his side.

“You don’t want to stay longer?” 

“Nah, I’m ready for some air conditioning and a cold shower. I’m sweaty in places I have no right to be,” you tell him with a smile that he only half heartedly returns. 

–

The drive back to the city is quieter than you like, but that’s not totally unexpected. You know Bucky needs time to decompress after dealing with so many new people. So you say nothing, resting your hand on his thigh as you close your eyes. Tipping your head back you let the cool air and the rocking of the car lull you into a relaxed state. The normally quick drive back to Manhattan is slowed by the holiday traffic in the tunnel so by the time you make it, it’s nearly dusk.

You wake up when the car stops, surprised to find Bucky parked in the underground garage of your apartments. You were supposed to spend the weekend at his place in the tower.

“Buck?” You ask sleepily. 

“You told me you didn’t care about the fireworks,” he says quietly.

The queer tone in his voice makes the comforting haze of sleep fall away from you as something shifts in the air between you. When you look at him you see his whole body is tense, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly enough to make the plastic groan. 

“I don’t, not really,” you tell him, sitting up.

“Your best friend seemed surprised you were going to miss it,” he says, staring straight ahead although there’s only the concrete wall to look at. 

“Yes, well Julia also thinks I love her macaroni salad too. Doesn’t make it true,” you try to joke.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky says sharply, finally turning to look at you. 

You’re unprepared for the anger and hurt you see in his eyes. 

“Do what?”

“Use humor to deflect. I know I’m the real reason we left early. Because I can’t handle the fireworks or even manage to make it through a simple fucking party.”

“Bucky,” you say softly. 

It’s an unspoken argument that bubbles up now and again since you started dating Bucky nine months ago but neither of you ever address it. You just learned to be careful about the dates you picked to go on, where you went, and who you saw. You never wanted to make Bucky uncomfortable, but you wanted him to be present in your life for the important events too. The few times you touched on the issue of his PTSD he was quick to shut it down or change the topic. You understood, your own struggles with anxiety and depression made you sensitive to his needs.

You thought you understood each other but looking at Bucky now you realize your mistake.

“You don’t think I know what your friends think about me? What people say at the tower?” He asks. “That I’m fucked in the head. A killer. Something broken.”

“Bucky, I don’t care what people say,” you tell him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he’s quick to shrug off.

“You should,” he says, the venom in his voice enough to make you shrink back before anger wells in your chest, hot and potent. 

“You think I don’t hear what people say about _me_? That I’m not pretty enough for you? Too fat? Only interested in dating you because you’re famous?” 

“What?” He asks, the anger and self loathing in his expression evaporating in an instant. “Who’s been saying that?”

Warmth floods your chest at the shift in his mood, at how ready and determined he is to hunt down anyone who dared to speak ill of you. 

“My point is people say a lot of things. It doesn’t make it true. You’re not what they say and neither am I.” 

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you deserve to be with someone whole. Someone good,” he admits softly, staring at his lap. “Someone who can sit through fireworks without coming unglued.”

He looks so vulnerable and small that it makes your chest ache. You shift forward in your seat, leaning over the center console to curl your hand around his. You sweep your thumb over the back of his hand, waiting until he looks up at you to speak again. 

“I never want you to feel like you’re not good enough for me. Because you are,” you tell him, squeezing his hand when he opens his mouth to speak again. “I love you,” you admit, relieved to finally say the actual words out loud. 

You’ve been half in love with Bucky since you started dating but it’s only grown stronger in the last few months, coalescing inside you into something real and undeniable. 

“It is too late to turn you out of my heart,” you tell him, touching your chest with your free hand. “Part of you already lives here.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” you tell him, squeezing his hand one more time before you draw away. “I just wanted you to know. I love you and I don’t want anyone else.”

Bucky blinks at you, opening and closing his mouth, his brow furrowed. You feel a spike of anxiety and fear that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way yet. You’re about to tell him it’s ok again when he surges toward you, both hands coming up to cup your face as he kisses you. His mouth is warm and insistent, the sheer want and desperation behind it enough to make you ache for him.

“I love you too,” he tells you, his voice firm and sure.

You share a soft smile together before you brush your lips over his again tenderly. You’re about to pull back when Bucky grabs your waist and hauls you across the console towards him. It’s awkward in the small space and you bang your knee on the dashboard before you end up straddling his lap. The steering wheel digs into your back, forcing you to lean forward and rest your hands on his shoulders. 

“Bucky,” you gasp. “What are you doing?”

“I want you,” he tells you, his lips finding that sweet spot under your jaw that makes you moan. 

“We can’t. People could see,” you tell him breathlessly.

“I don’t care,” he growls as his hands on your hips guide you to grind down on him.

With only the thin cotton of your underwear between your cunt and his jeans you can feel every inch of his growing erection. The rough material of his pants send a current of pleasure through your belly and you rub yourself against him shamelessly, seeking out the sensation again. 

“Need to feel you,” he groans, pulling aside your underwear to draw a finger through your wetness.

You let out a shaky breath while he works two fingers into you, his thumb sweeping over your clit in agonizingly slow strokes as he builds your pleasure. You pant, your head falling back as Bucky continues to work his fingers inside you to open you up for him. It doesn’t take long for your legs to start trembling as you push down on his fingers, desperate for more as he sucks a bruise into the skin of your neck.

“Please,” you beg. “Want you inside me.”

The wet sound your cunt makes when Bucky draws his fingers out of you has heat rushing to your face, but your embarrassment doesn’t last long as you watch Bucky unzip his jeans and shove them down his thighs. You help him out of his boxers and the feel of his cock, velvety and hot in your hands, makes you clench in anticipation. You spread the bead of precum around the head of his cock with your thumb before grasping him in your hand. The action makes him groan, his head falling back against the headrest. 

You shift up on your knees, as you feel Bucky slide a hand between your thighs to draw aside your underwear. You guide him inside you and sink down slowly, gasping at the way his cock stretches you open. Beneath you Bucky trembles, his fingers flexing on your hips in a way that you know means he’s restraining himself from pushing you to take him all at once. 

“Almost there,” you promise him as you continue to work him inside you with a shuddering grasp.

When your ass finally meets his thighs he takes control, bucking up into you and capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. His hands on your hips guide you to ride him at a frantic pace as he plants his feet on the ground behind you so he can meet you with powerful thrusts of his own. Each time he drives inside you brings you closer and closer to the edge but it isn’t until he wraps his arms tightly around you and buries his face in your chest that you come with a strangled sob. 

“Love you,” he grits out, bucking up into you with one final thrust before he spills into you, flooding you with warmth.

You fall forward, your head resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. You’re even more sticky and sweaty than you were before but you relish the burn in your legs and the way your cunt throbs around Bucky. You know you’ll have to clean the car before you return it to the motor pool, the leather below you is slick with your juices and Bucky come that leaks out of you but right now you can’t find it in you to care.

“This is way better than any fireworks show,” you tell Bucky with a giggle, loving the blissful way he regards you and his tender smile. 

“Fireworks always have an encore,” he reminds you. “Big finale,” he says, drawing a moan from you when he cants his hips up and you feel him growing hard inside you again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly stole this line: “It is too late to turn you out of my heart. Part of you lives here.” from Anne Sexton.


End file.
